Chapter 43: Heat and Flames

The sun beat down on Reseda with a relentless heat, the kind that made the air shimmer over the asphalt of West Valley High. It was a sweltering day, and most of the girls in the school had traded their pants for short shorts, the light fabric clinging to their sweaty skin. Jack Sullivan walked through the halls, his arm in a cast hot and uncomfortable under it, his backpack slung over one shoulder. The murmurs followed him like flies— 

When the bell for recess rang, he couldn't stand the hustle and bustle of the playground any longer. He grabbed his backpack and headed for a secluded corner behind the gym, a shaded area with a crooked tree, dry grass, and a worn concrete bench. It was a refuge few ventured into, perfect for breathing away from the eyes. He tossed his backpack on the floor and leaned against the wall, the heat of the day weighing on his shoulders as he thought about the night before—the tacos with Tory, the laughs with Brooklyn Nine-Nine , a moment of levity that seemed so distant now.

Sam LaRusso appeared shortly after, her light footsteps barely audible on the grass. She was wearing short jean shorts, her legs milky white from the sun, a loose tank top flapping in the warm breeze. She was holding a bottle of water, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her eyes met his with a mixture of concern and something more intense.

"Hi," she said, her voice soft but heavy. "I saw you coming out of the yard. Are you running away again?"

Jack gave a half smile, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his good hand. "I just needed some air. This heat is killing me. What about you?"

"I wanted to find you," she replied, sitting down beside him on the grass, her knees drawn up. "You're always hiding lately." She laughed, a light sound that warmed the moment, and offered him the bottle of water, which he accepted with a grateful nod.

With each passing day, Sam lost herself more in Jack. The recent days—helping him with his broken arm, facing the rumors together—had only deepened what she felt. She couldn't forget the kiss at the party, the taste of his mouth, even through the haze of alcohol, as vivid as if it had happened right then and there. He was the kind boy who made her smile, who protected her even when he was hurt, and she was in love, desperate to repeat that moment and go beyond.

They talked for a while, a light exchange about the insane heat, about how the classroom fan had broken, about the smell of sweat in the gym. Jack laughed, his face relaxing, and Sam saw his chance. "You're carrying a lot of weight," she said, her voice lowering as she moved closer, the heat of her skin mixing with the heat of the day. "Let me help you, lighten your load a little."

Before he could respond, she acted. In one fluid movement, Sam climbed onto his lap, her knees fitting next to his legs on the dry grass. Jack's eyes widened, his body tensing for a moment as she stared at him, her blue eyes blazing with desire and determination. "Sam…" he began, but the word died when she placed her hands on his shoulders, the heat of her against him like a flame he couldn't extinguish.

"Relax," she whispered, leaning down until their faces were inches apart. Then she kissed him, her soft lips pressing against his with an urgency that caught him off guard. Jack hesitated, his mind reeling, but something changed this time. He remembered the party and the other times, how weak he'd been, how he'd let Sam slip away out of fear, out of not doing anything. These days with her had scarred him—her support, the way she'd looked at him—and now, even though he knew it could hurt someone, he didn't want to back down. Not again.

He gave in, his good hand moving up to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. Sam smiled against his lips, starting to move, slowly grinding against his lap, her shorts riding up with the movement, the heat of their bodies mingling with the heat of the day. She couldn't take it anymore—she wanted him, all of him, right there, in that hidden corner. The past could scream, the rumors could burn, but right now it was just them, the fire of passion consuming everything.

Tory Nichols, meanwhile, was looking for a quiet place to escape the sweltering heat of the courtyard. The sun was unbearable, and the noise of the students laughing and shouting only made the sweat running down his back worse. She carried a bottle of cold water, her short shorts tight to her thighs, and decided to go behind the gym, remembering a shaded corner she had once used to train in peace. But when he turned the corner, he froze.

There, against the wall, sat Jack and Sam. She was in his lap, her lips pressed against his, her body moving against his in a way that made Tory's eyes widen. The bottle nearly slipped from her hand, the ice inside it melting as fury rose like a wave inside her. Jealousy rose from her like smoke, thick and acrid, burning her throat as she watched, paralyzed.

Last night—the tacos, the show, the lightness with Jack—felt like a lie now, crushed by the sight of Sam taking him like this. Tory hadn't been following them; it had been a cruel twist of fate, but that didn't lessen the rage that was consuming her. Jack was hers—not as Miguel, not as a boyfriend, but as something she couldn't explain, a connection that Sam was stealing right in front of her. She was with Miguel, and he was solid, but what she felt for Jack was a flame she couldn't extinguish, and now that flame was burning to ashes with fury.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms until they hurt, her body shaking as she watched Sam buck, Jack's lips moving against hers. She wanted to scream, to lunge, to tear Sam away, but she stayed still, her eyes blazing with silent promise. This wasn't going to stay like this. The heat of the day mixed with the heat of her anger, and she walked away, her heavy steps carrying a storm that was yet to explode.

In the private corner, Jack and Sam continued, their kiss growing hotter, more desperate. His hand tightened around her waist, the warmth of her against him drowning out the voices of guilt that tried to scream in his mind. He wasn't going to back down this time—not with Sam, not after everything they'd been through, not after he'd been weak before. Even if it hurt someone, even if it hurt later, he wanted this, wanted her. The world could wait.